


Candlelight and Latkes

by NTonks



Series: Raising Warlock [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author is not Jewish, Chanukah, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, Warlock POV, apologies if any details are incorrect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTonks/pseuds/NTonks
Summary: Warlock finds out that Nanny and Cook are preparing a celebration for a holiday he has never heard of before. He is eager to learn more and help get everything prepared.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Raising Warlock [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053500
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	Candlelight and Latkes

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Chanukah!
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not personally Jewish or raised in a Jewish household, so I apologize if the presentation/ explanation of any traditions are incorrect. I do have lots of Jewish friends and have worked in Jewish day schools, so I'm hoping most of it is fairly accurate. I just wanted to add a bit of diversity to the offerings of winter holiday fics.
> 
> Aziraphale is a female-presenting cook working in the Dowling household in my imagining because I think it fits much better with the character and allows a lot more interaction with Warlock.

It was a cold, wet Thursday in December, and Warlock Dowling was bored. His parents were gone, the weather made playing outside impossible, and Thursdays were Nanny’s day off.

The security agents and the housekeeper had both tried playing with him, but neither of them were as fun as Nanny and he just ended up getting stroppy with them.

So now Warlock is bored, miserable, and has a sour guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach after yelling at Agent Singh. 

Warlock looks over at Snake to see if she had any ideas.

“You’re right, we should ask Cook,” he agrees, picking up Snake and heading downstairs, “She always knows how to fix things.”

As Warlock neared the kitchen, he sniffs at the air. It smells like sugar and sweet jam.

“Cook, what are you making?” Warlock asks, pushing open the kitchen door.

Cook turns around, holding a potato.

“Well hello Warlock,” she greets, looking him up and down, “I heard you were having a bit of a difficult day today.”

Warlock bites his lip and stares down at his feet. After a few minutes, he hears Cook give a thoughtful hum and walk over. She plucks him up, takes him to the sink to wash his hands, then sets him on a stool in front of the sink.

“I always find doing something with my hands helps when I’m in a bit of a mood,” she says, turning on the tap, “Help me wash these potatoes? That’s a lad, give them a good scrubbing.”

“What are we making?” Warlock asks again.

Cook looks over as she pulls a grater down from the cupboard, “Latkes, for Chanukah. The last few years, Nanny and I have just lit a menorah together, but since Agent Meyer is on staff this year I thought he’d appreciate having a little celebration for the first night.”

Warlock tilts his head to the side, trying to pick which of the many questions spinning around in it to ask first. He decides to start simple.

He points to the plate of pastries covered in confectioner’s sugar, “What are those?”

“Sufganiyot,” Cook answers in a voice that makes it clear they were something delicious.

Warlock wrinkles up his nose as he tries the word, “Surfgenyo?”

Cook chuckles and slowly repeats the word, “Soof-gahn-ee-oat, it’s a type of donut from Israel, filled with jam. These ones have a lovely raspberry jam I got from a farmer’s market last month, I’ve been saving it special.”

Warlock nods, already eyeing up the plate to find the biggest one so he could grab it later.

“What’s Chanukah?” he asks next, handing Cook a clean potato which she starts peeling.

“It’s a holiday,” she begins, only for Warlock to interrupt, sure he’d figured it out.

“Like Christmas? Christmas is coming soon!”

He goes quiet when Cook shoots him a look about the interruption.

“No, not like Christmas,” she corrects patiently, “Well, there are a few similarities in the way people celebrate these days, but not many. Chanukah is celebrated by Jewish people to remember a miracle that happened back...oh, what year was it? Well, a miracle from a very long time ago. I can tell you the whole story later tonight, it’s a tradition to share it after candle lighting.”

Warlock nods eagerly. Cook always told the best stories, even if she sometimes gets a bit distracted in the middle.

“One of the ways Chanukah is celebrated is to eat special foods made with oil, like latkes and sufganiyot. Most Jewish holidays have some sort of special food, unless it’s a fast day.”

Warlock thinks, “Like birthday cakes on birthdays. You can’t just eat it any day, otherwise it wouldn’t be a special cake.”

“Well, um, that’s not a Jewish tradition specifically,” Cook says slowly, “but, I suppose the concept is the same, yes. Are you done with that last potato?”

Warlock hands it over, then watches as Cook grates the potatoes, and an onion into a bowl, then adds egg and flour to the whole mix. 

“You can help me here if you want,” she offers, turning on the hob, “You’ll just need to stand back so the oil doesn’t splatter you.”

Warlock eagerly pushes his stool over, and scoops up a spoonful of the goopy mix, peering at it critically, “It looks gross.”

Cook laughs, standing next to him and taking the spoon to bring it over the pan, “At the moment, but they taste absolutely scrumptious when they’re done.”

She plops down the mix, and the loud sizzle makes Warlock jump. A few seconds later the pan starts to smoke.

“Oh, bother,” Cook tsks, dumping the burnt pile of potato shreds into the sink, “Well, the first one always burns. Let’s try again.”

Little by little, the bowl full of goopy potato shreds turn into golden-brown pancakes, and the kitchen fills with a smell like a chippy shop. Once one is cooled enough, Cook tears it in two to share with Warlock.

“Mmmm!” Warlock hums around a mouthful.

“Just wait until you try it with applesauce,” Cook replies, wiping her lip. At that moment, Nanny comes down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Hullo,” she greets, swiping a latke off the plate, just missing having her hand swatted by Cook, “Great batch this year.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, dear girl,” Cook chides, “at least swallow! No need to teach the boy to speak with his mouth full.”

Warlock laughs as Nanny gives an exaggerated swallow before setting the box she had been carrying down on the counter. She opens it up and Warlock moves his stool over to look inside.

“Why’s it got so many places for candles?” He asks, pointing at the strangest looking candlestick he’s ever seen, “It looks like a tree.”

“That’s a menorah and it needs to hold eight candles,” Nanny explains, pointing to each holder and counting them one by one, “One for each night of the holiday, and then one extra spot here for the candle used to light the others. That one’s called the shamash.”

“It’s a holiday for eight days!” Warlock exclaims, eyes wide, “That’s so long!”

Cook hums from behind them, “It was a long time for the people in the temple. Right now, Warlock, why don’t you help Nanny get this all set up in the parlour while I get the food plated to bring up?”

Warlock nods, grabbing Snake and leading the way up to the parlour. He watches as Nanny sets a line of candlestick trees on the window sill. Nanny also clears off space on the coffee table and sets out a pile of what look like tiny hats, a bowl of what looks like pirate gold and some weird blocks with pointy ends and a stick on top.

Warlock kneels down and tries stacking some of the blocks.

“They’re not for stacking, little hellspawn,” Nanny corrects with a laugh, picking one from the top of his tower, “Watch.”

Nanny twists her fingers then drops the odd toy. It starts spinning around the table in a blur.

“Woah!” Warlock exclaims, watching it intently.

“It’s called a dreidel. You use it to play a game to win these,” she points to the bowl of golden coins.

“Are they real gold?” Warlock asks, picking one up to inspect.

Nanny laughs, “No, they’re even better than gold.”

She peels off a wrapper and reveals that the coin is actually made of chocolate. Warlock quickly unwraps his own and pops it in his mouth.

“Alright, no more gelt until after candle-lighting. You have to earn your treats by playing dreidel.”

Just then, Cook comes into the room bearing a tray piled high with latkes, sufganiyot, and other food. Agent Meyer came in from another doorway, followed by Agents Smith, Singh, and Johnson.

“What...?” Agent Meyer asks, looking around.

“Chag Sameach!” Cook calls out, waving the group of agents into the room.

Agent Meyer walks forward, staring at the plates covered in food and the menorah in the window.

“Did you put all this together for me?” he asks, voice sounding watery.

“Well, we certainly weren’t going to let you celebrate alone!” Cook says gently.

“Here,” Nanny says, handing Warlock one of the small hats, “If you want to be in the room while the candles are lit, you should have your head covered.”

Warlock nods and places the cap on his head, then grabs the pile so he can run around passing them out to everyone else who asks for one. Cook pulls her own beautifully embroidered cap out of an apron pocket. Agent Meyer sheepishly shows off his cap, red with the words “Keep Calm and Put a Kippah On” printed on it in white along with a double-decker bus.

“Oh, what terrible tourist shop did you find that in?” Nanny groans.

“One in Golders Green,” Agent Meyer laughs, “I couldn’t resist. Bought one for myself and sent ones home for my dad and brother.” 

“I have lost all my respect for you,” Nanny replies flatly, before being pulled onto a couch by Warlock.

He climbs into Nanny’s lap and listens as Cook and Agent Meyer sing prayers in another language. Nanny whispers the meanings to him in English as they go, and picks him up to hold as she walks up to the window.

“Want to help me light, hellspawn?” she asks softly, lighting the highest middle candle on one of the menorah.

Warlock nods, and helps Nanny hold the candle and light the candle placed in the holder all the way on one of the ends of the menorah. He stares at the small flame as it flickers, reflecting in the window.

“It’s really pretty,” he whispers to Nanny.

Nanny is looking over at Cook, watching the lights turn Cook’s white hair a shining gold, a small smile on her face, “Yes, it is.”

The night turns from a sort of quiet happy into a more loud, party feeling after that. Agent Meyer teaches them all songs and a few dances, Cook piles food onto everyone’s plate, and- with Nanny helping him spin- Warlock wins every game of dreidel he plays.

Finally, when the agents have left to go back to patrolling the grounds, and Warlock feels his eyes starting to droop, he gets up to pull Cook over to sit on the couch. He wedges himself between Cook and Nanny and does his best impression of Nanny’s strict glare.

“Cook, you promised you’d tell me the story!”

“Yes, I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Cook presses a kiss to his cheek, scooting closer so Warlock is held close in a sort of hug on both sides by herself and Nanny “Let’s see...Long ago, in the city of Jerusalem…”

Warlock listens until he drifts off to sleep, surrounded by warm arms, with the lights from the menorah candles still flickering behind his eyelids.


End file.
